


Summerlin

by RydenTrash



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Ryden - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4392248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RydenTrash/pseuds/RydenTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Brendon are reunited when Ryan comes to the Panic! tour in his home town of Summerlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summerlin

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is my first ever fic so hope you like it! It's kinda shitty but whatever, it was fun to write :p (btw in my mind Ryan is a lot shorter than Brendon. Idk why.)

Summerlin 

 

“Through playful lips made of yarn  
That Fragile Capricorn  
Unraveled words like moths upon old scarves  
I know the world’s a broken bone  
But melt your headaches, call it home.” - Northern Downpour

The tour bus was dreadful. Food wrappers littered the floor, belongings spread out where they shouldn't be, unmade beds shake with the bouncing of the moving bus. Brendon sat alone on one of the two couches that lined each wall, headphones in his ears and a book in his hands. Brendon never really liked to read. Internet access was scarce and expensive and all the music on his phone had been listened to to death. hours on the bus with nothing much to do would have drove him to madness. He needed some sort of mental stimulation.  
The band's current destination was Las Vegas. Not that it mattered to Brendon much. Most of the time he was unaware of where they were. they had no time to explore the city's. It was into the theatre, back on the bus. They were currently passing through Summerlin Nevada. This town always left a bad taste in Brendons mouth. He tried to focus on single blurred trees. It was impossible. His book wasn’t keeping his attention either. So he just put his head back, closed his eyes and tried not to think about Vegas.  
The bus went over a particularly large bump and Brendon was jolted back into reality. He accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to get any rest and succumbed to the death inducing boredom of counting how many farms they passed.  
He heard movement from the beds and saw a figure tumble to the ground in a frantic mess of blankets. It was Dallon. Most likely hungover.  
“Welcome to Nevada Dal.” Brendan yelled to him. Dallon rubbed his head and turned his gaze to Brendon with an empty expression. “Shit, we’re there already?” Brendon nodded and laid back down on the couch.  
Dallon was okay. The rest of the band was okay. If you could even call them the band. Brendon had difficulty accepting that they were still Panic At The Disco. Seeing that he was the only original member remaining, it didn’t feel right to go by the original name. He was starting to feel like a solo act with backup dancers. It made him uncomfortable. He realized that he was talented, but he needed the rest of the band. He needed a sun. Now the band consisted of starving musicians who took no creative liberties.  
All the decisions were left to Brendon and his agent. And the influence of his agent was all pop. Synthesizers, drum machines, things that the old Panic wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole. Brendon missed the genius songs that Ryan would come up with so casually. But Brendan was in too deep. If he left Panic now, he would be nothing. He could start a solo career, but what was the fun in that? Part of what Brenon loved so much about being in Panic was that he got to do it with his best friends. It was a dream come true really, to leave graduate high school and immediately go on to tour the world with the boys he had honed his musicality with, grew up with, loved. And now they the band was just a shadow of it’s former fire. Brendon was alone, in his own way.  
Touring certainly didn’t help with the loneliness. He tried to keep in touch with most of the old band, but he could never seem to get through to one of them. His phone was always off, or he was busy, or was in bed with some model that meant nothing to him. Brendon hadn’t talked to Ryan Ross in 3 years. He missed the need to go out and party with him after every show. Now he never wanted to. He missed the long conversations about absolutely nothing that would last long into the night until they succumbed to sleep on the hard tour bus couch. He missed learning the songs he wrote and listening to him attempt to be in charge. He missed the sun. He hadn’t seen it for awhile, the weather had been cloudy. The bus leisurely rolled past the “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign. They were out of Summerlin. He could relax. Brendon swallowed and tried to push the sun out of his head. 

 

The show went on smoothly. Probably thanks to the coffee that Brendon had chugged before they started. He never needed coffee before the split. The adrenaline was enough. Now he drank it like water. A woman wearing a headset and holding a clipboard handed him a towel as he walked off stage, congratulating him on great show. Although he didn’t agree, he thanked he and buried his wet face in the towel.  
“Ready to go do the meet and greet?” Kenneth asked him, slapping him on the back and smiling like the joker. Brendon resected Kenneth. He had the best attitude in the new band and was a decent musician. Brendon gave his best fake smile, trying to get his breathing patterns back to normal.  
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”  
They exited out the stage door and the cool gust of air that washed over them was like a blessing. But the moment of bliss was quickly ruined by the line of screaming girls in various states of dress that stretched about a mile long. Brendon used to love going down the line, sighing and taking photos and hearing all the nice things the fans had to say. Now it was just a chore. Brendon took a deep breath and approached the first girl with a camera in her hand.  
About an hour later they were through the line. Brendons eyelids were heavy and he was regretting the coffee. Sometimes the caffeine low wasn’t worth the caffeine high.  
“Alright guys, we’re gonna need about 15 more minutes to load up. Than we’re back on the road.” The head roadie said to the band. The other 3 guys piled on the bus and went straight to their beds. Brendon decided to stay outside for awhile. He needed all the fresh night air he could get before getting back on the bus for 24 more hours. He scuffed his feet on the ground and watched the post concert traffic attempt to go home. There was something very nostalgic and comforting about watching people leaving concerts. The giddy smiles, the tiredness, the adrenaline low, all reminded him of the days that he had time to go to concerts with his friends and get wasted and scream at the band.  
There were still a large amount of people who still hadn’t made it to their cars. It was a particularly packed show tonight, the big cities always were. Brendon couldn't help but notice how much younger the crowed was than when they started out. Granted, his perception could be skewed, seeing as he had gotten older, but it still felt weird to have thousands of teenage girls screaming at an almost 30 year old man like himself. It made him feel old.  
As Brendon gazed at the crowed from outside the tour bus, he noticed a break in the teenage girl trend. There was an adult man walking among them. He looked too young to be someone's father, and he wasn’t talking to anyone. He probably came alone, Brendon thought. He used to love going to concerts alone. There was no pressure from your peers to be more excited or less excited than you were. You could just enjoy the music however you wanted.  
Brendon looked closer at the man who was clearly trying to get to his car as quickly as he could. He was wearing a leather jacket with lots of patches sewn on the back and sleeves. Brendon couldn't see his face but he could tell that this guy didn’t quite suit the biker look. He walked with too much urgency, not enough swagger.  
A sired coming from the opposite direction sounded and the man looked behind him. Brendon’s heart skipped a beat when he saw his face. No, Brendon told himself. That’s not him. He wouldn't be here. Not now. Not ever. But when Brendon took a closer look and saw the man’s pained expression and the way he ran his hand through his hair he knew. That was not just a random fan wanting to enjoy a solitary concert.  
Without a second thought Brendon put on his sunglasses and baseball cap and started sprinting towards the crowd, making sure not to lose sight of the bright red patch on the leather jacket. The cold air hit his face like ice and his breath was faltering but he ignored it. He just ran. A million thought ran through his head, “Why is he here? Did someone make him come?” But then he remembered where they were. Summerlin. The whole reason for his sadness on the bus.  
When he reached the crowed he didn’t bother going with the flow of traffic. He just shoved his way through, apologizing as he went. He was feet away now. Inches. He placed a hand on his shoulder and he turned around. Brendon froze. Ryan Ross was staring back at him, a confused look on his face. After a couple seconds Brendon saw Ryan register who he was and his jaw dropped. They were blocking traffic now. Before either of them could say anything, Brendon grabbed his arms and pulled him out of the crowd, towards the tour bus. He expected to feel some pull back, some protest. But there was none. Ryan followed behind him, letting himself be guided through the crowd.  
When they had made it back to the bus, Brendon took a laboring breath and turned around. Ryan was standing right there, looking vaguely sheepish and scared. He looked older, Brendon thought. Back when he left the band they were barely out of highschool. He still looked like himself, just older. It was a bit of a shock to the senses.  
“...Hi.” Ryan said, more breath than vocal chords. Brendon still hadn’t quite registered the fact that he had found his lost bandmate in the crowed of one of the bands that he left behind. Brendon opened his mouth but nothing came out.  
“W....why....how are you here?” He managed to spit out. Ryan looked down at his shoes. “Brendon, I-”  
“2 minutes Brendon!”  
The roadie yelled in Brendons direction.  
“Shit.” Brendon breathed out. Ryan glanced behind him.  
“I guess I better-”  
“No. wait.” Brendon couldn't believe he was doing this. Had he lost his mind? This was the man who betrayed him, had abandoned him when he needed him most.  
“our next stop in LA. I could get you a plane ticket and you could be back here by tomorrow night.” Ryan looked conflicted. He still hadn’t made full eye contact with Brendon yet.  
“alright Bren that’s it.” Brendon looked back Ryan, a familiar annoyance rising in him.  
“Alright fine.” Ryan said and pushed passed Brendon up the tour bus steps. Brendon followed, and the doors closed. They were back on the road. 

 

Brendon wanted to throw up. It was almost midnight, and he was wide awake, sitting across from Ryan Ross. They had been sitting in the most painfully awkward silence for nearly 10 minutes since the bus started rolling. All they had been doing was trying to avoid eachothers eyes and studying their hands like they had never seen them before. Brendon watched The gaudy lights of Las Vegas whiz by. He used to love that sight. Now it was corrupted by Ryan's tainted silhouette.  
“It smells like tour in here.” Ryan finally broke the silence, only glancing at Brendon for a second. Brendon thought he saw a faint grin but he couldn't tell. Brendon tried to stifle his chuckle but it came out without his permission. Ryan returned it half heartedly.  
“We should bottle it and sell it, ‘Panic On tour’, now available at Macy's.” Brendon put on a fake advertisers voice and he could see Ryans grin this time. He was surprised how easy it was to joke with Ryan. Maybe it was just because he hated confrontation and this was a way to avoid it. But wasn’t that the whole reason he had dragged Ryan on the bus? To confront him?  
Brendon forced the smile off his face and tried to look stern.  
“So.....are we gonna talk or no?” it pained him to lower the mood. But it had to be done. For his peace of mind.  
Ryan bit his lip and looked at his hands again.  
“I was hoping you wouldn't say that.” He barely mumbled.  
“I mean, did you think I would ask you on the bus if I didn’t want answers?” Ryan sighed.  
“What is their to answer Brendon?” Brendon felt heat rise in his chest. Was Ryan playing dumb?  
“What do you mean ‘what is there to answer?’” Brendon’s voice raised.  
“You leave the band with hardly any explanation, than you ignore me until I stopped trying to talk to you. Don’t act like you don’t know.”  
Ryan didn’t look shocked. He and Brendon had gotten into scuffles before. It was nothing new. But this wasn’t the old Ryan and Brendon. They weren't anything anymore. They were two strangers reluctantly trying to solve ease eachothers pain. That hurt Brendon more than anything.  
It took a minute for Ryan to say anything.  
“It was a lot of things Brendon” was all he could think of. A few seconds later he added  
“do you promise to listen? To give me the benefit of the doubt?” Brendon tried to take that in. Was Ryan guilty of something? It seemed to Brendan that that was what he was trying to communicate. He leaned forward.  
“I don’t care Ryan, I just want answers.” It felt strange to say his name. He hadn’t said that name since the split. And everyone in Brendons life tried to avoid the name as well.  
Ryan took a deep breath, running his hand through his wild hair. It looked like he hadn’t gotten it cut in months. Made him look like the old Ryan. The musical genius Ryan. The 19 year old Ryan who smiled like a puppy. The Ryan Brendon fell in love with.  
“Well to start, I had a huge writers block. Crippling. but that didn’t have much to do with it.” Ryan started picking at his nails. A motion that was all too familiar to Brendon. He always did that when he was uncomfortable. He did it during interviews all the time.  
“Second. This is gonna sound dumb I know, but I was.......overwhelmed. Freaked out from the fame I guess. I never thought we would make it big, I thought we would be some underground indie band and that would be it. I never really wanted to be famous. But when it happened, it was exciting. I got caught up in it for awhile. But after the initial high was over, I couldn't handle it. Constantly being on the road, never a free moment except those snuck in at the late hours, no privacy. It was just too much. That’s why I went off with The Young Veins. I figured that they wouldn't make it at all, so I was okay. And I was right.”  
Brendons face felt like stone as he tried to take comprehend this. It made sense, but why did Ryan not tell him?  
“If you didn’t want fame, then why did you join another band?” Brendon didn’t mention that he was thankful for The Young Veins. It let him hear Ryan’s voice.  
Ryan looked self conscious.  
“Because I realized that I still needed music. Without music I’m nothing. I couldn’t just let it go.” Brendon nodded.  
“Okay....is that it? If that was it then why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan buried his head in his hands and quickly recouped.  
“I didn’t think you would understand. I felt weak. It was embarrassing.” Brendon’s heart stung. He had spent hours, days, of his life listening to Ryan Ross’s every thought, fear, fantasy, emotion, doubt. And to be told that Ryan didn’t think he would understand, broke him. He didn’t let it show. He didn’t want to waste time talking about himself.  
“Also, that’s not the only reason.” Brendon let out an exasperated breath.  
“Well stop fucking around and tell me for god's sake.” He felt like a voodoo doll that Ryan was slowly pushing pins into.  
Ryan threw up his hands in frustration.  
“God Brendon I wouldn't have come with you if i knew you were gonna be pissy about this!” It took a lot to get Ryan Ross to yell, and Brendon had accomplished it many times. He added this time to the list.  
Brendon collected himself, nervously rubbing his hands on the couch upholstery.  
“Okay. I’m sorry. You can talk. I’ll shut up.” Ryan furrowed his eyebrows.  
“Well thank you your highness, I am so honored to have information pulled out of me by you.”  
Brendon slammed his hands down on the couch.  
"Goddamnit Ryan, if you don't wanna talk that's fucking fine. I can have our driver pull up at a rest stop and leave you." A painful silence fell between them. Out of the corner of his eye Brendon saw Ryan biting his lip and trying to see out the window behind him. It felt like hours before he finally spoke.  
“I want to tell you things, Bren. I just want it to be civil.” Bren. Hearing that name come out of his mouth was pouring sugar in a stab wound.  
“I can do that. I swear.” Brendon spoke so quietly he could hardly hear himself. Ryan nodded and continued.  
“The other reason I left........it was for you Bren.”  
Brendon felt a shiver as intense as a gunshot travel down his spine.  
“I always knew you were a star. The way you command the stage, the way you sing every word like it’s poetry, you don’t see that every day. I guess I felt like a third wheel to you. I was writing all the songs, all the music, I felt like I didn’t deserve to have a hand in your work. I wanted you to have the creative freedom you needed. I could tell you needed it. I wanted to step out of your spotlight, even if it’s not what you wanted.”  
Brendon heard a slight crack in Ryan’s voice.  
“And....while we’re laying everything out on the table, i might as well admit that I was madly in love with you. And I’m pretty sure it was mutual. Wich didn’t help my need to set you free. I didn’t want to take your time away from you. I wanted to see you fly.”  
As traffic passed Brendon saw the lights from cars highlight the tears falling down Ryans face. “I guess that’s why I cut off contact with you as well. I wasn’t good for you. You needed to forget me, I needed to forget you. Life can be a real piece of shit sometimes.”  
Once again Brendon lost all control of his actions and before he knew it he was on his feet and opening his arms to his friend, who went into them instantly. The feeling of Ryan's body against his was the most beautiful nostalgia he had felt in a long time. Ryan's head fit perfectly in Brendons shoulder where he buried his face and stopped trying to stifle the tears. Brendon felt sobs rising in his own throat but he didn’t dare to let them out. This wasn’t his moment. He tightened his arms around Ryan and spoke in his ear. They stood in eachothers arms for what felt like hours until Brendon said  
“Ryan, you know that all of that is complete bullshit right?” He didn’t say it in an accusing manner. He said it comforting. Gentle. Trying to ease the suffering of the boy crying on his shoulder.  
“What do you mean?” Ryan choked out.  
Brendon didn’t know how to go about saying anything. He was at a loss for words. All he knew was that Ryan was wrong in every way. He huffed in frustration and backed up onto the couch, guiding Ryan with him. He sat down and pulled Ryan onto his lap, wrapping his legs around his waist like a baby koala, like he had done hundreds of times. Ryan was too weak to protest. He just found Brendons shoulder again and snuggled in closer.  
Brendon ran his hands through the others boys hair, whispering for him to hush.  
“You’re wrong Ryan. I needed you more than you could possibly believe. I always needed you. The fact that you think I didn’t need you really sucks.”  
This just made Ryan cry harder. Brendon instantly regretted saying anything and took Ryans face in his two hands, bringing his forehead to his.  
“Ryan, you were the the son of a bitch that stole my heart, and if you think that that just went away when you left the band you’re crazy. I’m not mad at you, I just want to know that you were never a third wheel. I’m not a solo act, never will be. We were the best team ever. You will always have a place in my heart, no matter what. Even if you ditch me.” Brendon said the last line with a slight chuckle. He swiped the tears away from Ryans face with his thumb and pressed his lips to his forehead.  
He felt Ryan’s shaking slow, his breath catch. A single tear escaped down Brendons cheek. He didn’t fight it. He let Ryan's strong hand wipe it away as he pulled Brendons lips down to his. Every sadness that Ryan Ross had ever caused him suddenly melted away in the slow kiss. None of it mattered anymore. He was here. Maybe only for a short time, but again, it didn’t matter. Brendons skin tingled so much it almost hurt. Ryans hot breath in his mouth was like a warm blanket in winter.  
Ryan slowly pulled away, moving to place a small kiss on brendons neck.  
“You realize that most every song I wrote was about you right?” He whispered in Brendons ear. Brendon felt like he might explode. He felt a smile crawl across his face.  
“I kinda thought so.”  
Brendon leaned to the left, laying down on his side, bringing Ryan with him. He pulled him close so the miniscule space that was between the was obliterated.  
“You still want to leave me at a rest stop?” Ryan mused. Brendon grinned down at him.  
“Shut the fuck up Ross and go to sleep. He felt Ryan's steady breathing against him, and that was enough to lull him to sleep. 

 

Brendon was shaken awake by the bus going over a particularly large bump. He lifted his head from the couch, trying to reorient himself. Last thing he remembered he was sleeping with Ryan Ross in his arms. Now Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Brendon sighed and slammed himself facedown on the couch. It was all a dream. A sweet, painful dream. Brendon was vaguely comforted to see that the sun was finally out. The cloudy jag the weather had been on was over at last. Just when tears were about to escape him he heard a familiar voice from the bathroom of the bus. And it wasn’t Dallons voice. It was Ryan’s. He hadn’t dreamed it. It was real. He had just spent the night pouring his heart out to his first love. It sounded like he was on the phone.  
“Yeah okay, I’ll let you know...............okay. i think he’s awake, I gotta go. See ya.” The bathroom door swung open and there he was, still in the rumpled clothes from last night. Brendon sat up and grinned.  
“Well someone as sex hair this morining.” Ryan grinned and plopped down on the couch next to Brendon and gave him a playful shove.  
“Well you look like a bag of dogshit so who has it better?” The banter warmed Brendons heart like chicken soup with a cold. Ryan took Brendons hand in his, studying it like he so often studied his own.  
“Who were you talking to?” Brendon asked, letting his head fall onto Ryan's shoulder.  
“My roommate. Wanted to let him know that I’m not dead.”  
“Good plan.” Brendon closed his eyes.  
With that Ryan got up and went to the back of the bus. Brendon craned his neck to see what he was doing, but he was out of sight. A few seconds later he emerged with Brendan's old banged up acoustic guitar in his hand.  
“I can’t believe you still have this thing.” He said, sitting back down on the couch and reaching for the tuning pegs. Brendon sat forward to watch what he was doing, tuning each string with care. Brendon always loved Ryan's hands. There was something so strong about them.  
“I can’t bear to part with it, all our best stuff was written on that.” The real reason he hadn’t gotten rid of it was because it brought back lots of memories of staying up all night with Ryan, brainstorming new ideas. It was ryan in an object.  
Ryan finished tuning and strummed a chord.  
“We should write a song.” He said with a sly grin on his face.  
“Ballad or It’s almost Halloween part 2?” Ryan smiled and shoved him back again.  
“I’m serious Bren. I’ve had this idea for awhile and I need your help with it.” Brendon didn’t let his heart speed up. This wasn’t Ryan implying that he wanted back in the band, right? If that was the goal he would surely be more direct, wouldn't he?  
“And what is this song for?” Brendon asked. Ryan smiled down at his shoes.  
“I don’t know. Catharsis.” Ryan studied his hands again. He was lying.  
Brendon put all his inhibitions aside.  
“Ryan, would I be crazy if I asked you to join the band again?” Brendon couldn't believe he had just said that.  
Ryan looked shocked, but not unpleasantly shocked. He bit his lip.  
“I mean, I think I could be talked into it. Maybe after this tour is over, we could talk to the manager-” Ryan couldn't finish his sentence before Brendon snatched the guitar out of his lap and attacked him in a bear hug.  
“Are you serious?” He almost shrieked. Ryan laughed.  
“I think I am. If you’ll take me, I’d be happy to.” The two boys fell into a fit of joyous laughter.  
Brendon heard the other band members stir in their bunks and he motioned to Ryan to hush. He handed him the guitar again. He said in a quiet voice,  
“Let’s write that song than.”


End file.
